


Picture Perfect

by wintermute



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e01 Pilot, First Kiss, Fix-It, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintermute/pseuds/wintermute
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>On his lock screen was a photo of Clint, Natasha and him standing in a loose circle, laughing in a carefree way that was so rarely the case in their lives. Maria had taken that picture a few years ago at a base Christmas party. Phil still remembered the way Clint’s eyes shone and sparkled under the Christmas lights as he laughed at some joke Sitwell made, happy and carefree.</i>
</p>
<p>After returning to active duty, Phil realizes that keeping a secret may be harder than he thought, especially from Clint. Luckily, Maria is a good friend. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Picture Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to try and write all of the episode tags for the AoS fandom in the same universe, including the ones involving other characters, kind of like a B-side to canon. However, different ships will probably be collected in different series. We'll see how this goes (i.e., it'll probably blow up spectacularly on me... like most of my "brilliant" ideas.) The Clint/Coulson storyline will likely be a bit more intense and angst-y; you've been warned.
> 
> Part of the story is inspired by something Aly posted on tumblr.
> 
> Also, unbeta'd since I don't have one for this fandom. If anyone wants to volunteer, please let me know :)
> 
> Also also, please let me know how I'm doing with this verse! This is going to be one long-ass journey and I'd love to hear what you think!

They were somewhere over the Rockies flying towards a SHIELD depot for a brief stand down and resupply before heading south to their next mission when Phil’s phone buzzed against the smooth laminate of his desk. It jolted him out of the trance he’d fallen into, the dimmed tablet held loosely in one hand propped against his thigh tumbled off onto the couch. He rubbed at his temple and sore eyes as he reached for his phone.

_How’re you holding up?_ Maria texted.

_I’m fine, still in one piece_ , Phil texted back, picking up the tablet and setting it back against his thigh. On his lock screen was a photo of Clint, Natasha and him standing in a loose circle, laughing in a carefree way that was so rarely the case in their lives. Maria had taken that picture a few years ago at a base Christmas party. Phil still remembered the way Clint’s eyes shone and sparkled under the Christmas lights as he laughed at some joke Sitwell made, happy and carefree. He remembered the way Clint pressed up against him, buzzed and fuzzy, like a particularly affectionate cat after Natasha dared him into vodka shots. He’d had to haul Clint’s drunk ass back to his quarters while Clint waxed poetics about Phil’s sartorial choices. That had been one of the better moments in Phil’s otherwise work-dominated life that Phil would always treasure, and the memories associated with that photo tugged at him with an almost visceral longing. If he’d been younger and braver…

_You know that’s not what I’m asking._ Maria’s reply was almost instantaneous.

Phil sighed. He remembered when Maria was just a bright-eyed recruit, fresh out of the Navy and full of hope. She would’ve never questioned his answers back then. How the times changed.

_I’ve been better_ , he replied. His phone rang a second later.

“He misses you, you know,” Maria said without preamble. “They all do.”

“How… how is he?” He asked, not even bothering to ask Maria whom she was referring to. They’d known each other too long to play being obtuse.

“He’s… coping, barely.” Maria sounded apologetic, something that she’d never admit to in the company of others. It reminded Phil of the reason why they were such good friends. She might technically be his boss, but she did care. “It helps that they’ve both been assigned to the Avengers Initiative indefinitely. The team is helping her keeping him together.”

The “for now” was left unsaid, but Phil heard it loud and clear just the same. It’d been over a year since the Battle of New York, and it worried Phil that Clint was still having problems moving forward.

The thing was, Phil did miss his old team. He missed the simpler days when it was just he and Clint and Natasha. He missed the old days when they had no secrets between them, and they trusted each other implicitly with everything. That was all gone now, his two agents reassigned and he didn’t want to think about how they might never trust him again after this.

He didn’t ask Maria about Natasha because he knew she would be fine, eventually. Natasha was tough, tougher than he and Clint on any given day. She knew how to survive without him. She would move on, and she would survive. It was Clint that he was worried about. Always Clint; Clint, who he’d personally recruited at a young age at the behest of Fury, who had impressed him even then when he was just a punk kid that could make impossible shots with a bow, an assassin who made the wrong choice to trust in the wrong people.

He’d always had a soft spot for his favorite sniper. Clint’s life story sometimes made Phil wanted to pull him into his arms and cry for Clint for all the pain he’d had to endure, but it was more than that. It was the way Clint had refused to let life beat him down, standing tall and strong and beautiful.

And, oh, he was beautiful. More beautiful than any human being Phil had ever known. It made Phil want to shelter him, to protect him from all of the bad in the world even if he knew that Clint was more than capable of protecting himself. It was borderline on obsession, something Phil used to have to remind himself every day that it couldn’t ever happen.

He sometimes wondered if it was a mistake to deny them both of what could have been.

He had always been aware of this thing he and Clint had been dancing around in the many years they’d worked together; he wasn’t blind, but he was never sure if it would ruin the working relationship they’d built to just let it happen.

It was all moot now. He was supposed to be dead, and the Avengers didn’t know the truth. Phil knew that he could go to Fury and give him his ultimatum. Fury might pout and grumble like a six year old but he’d give in, in the end. Phil just didn’t want to force the hand of a man he’d known for more than two decades, of whom he considered one of his oldest friends. Plus, he knew the stakes; keeping his death a secret had a purpose, but it didn’t stop Phil from worrying about Clint, who’d been abandoned by almost every person in his life. Phil felt like he’d betrayed him, betrayed his trust and abandoned him like all the others, by keeping his not-death from him, even if it was an order he obeyed for the greater good.

Oh, but he wanted to, he wanted to tell Clint so much. Ever since he woke up in medical all those months ago he’d wanted to say something, to break this stalemate between them, to step closer the one step needed to bring them together.

“Phil?” Maria’s voice breaking through his thoughts sounded far away. “You still there?”

Phil cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Phil…”

“Maria, I have to tell him,” Phil didn’t want to sound like he was begging, but he knew that was exactly what he sounded like. “I don’t care what Fury said. He has to… he _needs_ to know that I’m…”

“Phil, you know why—”

“I know that! You think I don’t know that?” Phil felt frustrated. “… Sorry. I…”

He could hear Maria sigh on the other end of the line. “It’s fine,” she said.

“It’s just…” Phil rubbed at his temple, feeling the throbbing that was threatening to turn into a full-blown headache. He’d never lied to Clint and damn if he was going to start now. “I don’t think I can live like this. And you _know_ that _he_ can’t.”

Maria grew quiet at this. She knew he was right; Phil was positive about that.

“I’ll talk to Fury,” she said, finally. “But I can’t guarantee anything. You’ve seen Clint’s file. Psych had cleared him for duty but they didn’t do it willingly.”

“I know. That’s all I’m asking.” Phil wasn’t hoping for a miracle to make everything okay; he was far too pragmatic to believe in miracles.

“Take care of yourself,” Maria added before hanging up.

Phil sighed, tossing his phone back onto the desk, and ran a hand over his thinning hair in frustration. Shifting on the couch, he jostled the tablet back to life, and couldn’t help touching his fingers to Clint’s bright, happy smile beaming at his own answering grin in the picture.

 

\---

 

Clint and Phil’s first mission together was an absolute disaster. It was supposed to be a milk run, a simple in-and-out type of op that they should be able to wrap up in a few of hours. Except, they were made before they even got anywhere near the target. It had been bad intel, plain and simple, and the two of them had made it out by the skin of their teeth only because of Clint’s sheer stubbornness at hauling an injured Phil three miles to a non-SHIELD safe house he’d kept in the area. Phil never really figured out what exactly happened after that point. He’d taken a bullet to the left shoulder and was bleeding heavily after spotting a sniper and diving into the path of the bullet aimed at Clint’s head to push him out of the way. He remembered instructing Clint to call for evac and get out. He remembered telling Clint to leave him because he honestly wasn’t sure he’d make it.

He woke up two days later in medical with an IV dripping morphine into his system and a pulse-oximeter clipped to his index finger. Clint had been sitting on a plastic chair next to the bed, legs brought up and curled into a ball, fast asleep, with a hand wrapped around Phil’s.

“Why…?” Clint had asked after he’d gotten out of medical with his left arm in a sling. They were in his office, sorting through the after action report Clint had filed so he could put the whole case to bed. “Why did you take that bullet for me?”

The way Clint asked that question, like he’d expected Phil to leave him to get shot and die, broke Phil’s heart. He couldn’t quite help himself, then, moving around his desk and kneeling on one knee next to where Clint was slumped in his spot on the couch.

“Clint, I want you to pay attention, because this is important.” Phil fixed Clint’s gaze with his own, his tone serious. “You’re not expendable. No one should ever be considered expendable. For as long as you work with us, I will try my best to keep you safe, and to bring you home. Even if that means sacrificing my own life.”

Clint’s face had looked like a deer in headlights’. He opened his mouth as if to reply, froze, then closed again, lips pressed into a thin line as his brows drew into a slight frown.

“Okay?” Phil prodded, worried at the lack of response from his agent.

“Yeah. Okay.” Clint nodded slowly, his voice tight. He paused for a brief second and stared at the sling wrapped around Phil’s left arm, before he added, “You’re not expendable either, sir.”

Phil’s lips pulled into a small, if somewhat exasperated, smile. “I’m working on that.”

His reply got a chuckle out of Clint.

Phil let his smile widen just a bit as he rose to his feet and sat down next to Clint. “How about we work on that together? And try not to get hurt too often for no good reason?”

Clint looked up at him, his beautiful mosaic eyes staring right into Phil’s own, searching for what Phil didn’t know. Eventually, though, he gave an answering smile. “Deal,” he said, holding out his fist for Phil to bump.

 

\---

 

_There was this one time_ , Clint would always start with those words whenever he was retelling some ridiculously exaggerated version of a particular mission. Phil remembered fondly of how Clint told the stories with flailing arms, expressive faces and all the voices, even if he tended to exaggerate way too much. It was entertaining and amusing, and, while Phil would never admit to it under pain of torture, it made Phil’s day that much brighter listening to Clint like that.

He remembered the last time Clint told the story of that one time they were on an op in Japan. They were chasing down leads of an AIM cell working out of a private chemical research lab situated just outside of Tokyo. Why on earth would Fury send them to Japan when only Natasha out of the three of them could even understand the language was beyond Phil. But that wasn’t the point of this particular story.

The problem of being Caucasians in Japan was that the three of them stuck out like a bunch of really, really sore thumbs, and that wasn’t even taking into account of Natasha’s hair color. Everywhere they went, they were stared at, pointed at, and generally being very un-spy-like no matter how careful they were. They couldn’t pretend to be inconspicuous even if they tried, which was how they ended up in full costume, dressed up as characters in some animated show called Evangelion (how Clint knew not only the name of the series but also the characters and plot, Phil would never know, since Clint didn’t speak a word of Japanese), and got stopped every three steps by fans who wanted pictures as they scoured the anime convention for the nerdy AIM operatives they were supposed to be looking for. Clint’s story of that op was even more ridiculous than how the op turned out, which Phil considered a feat.

And then there were all the times when they barely made it out alive. Phil had never forgotten the promises he made to Clint, but sometimes, shit happened and there wasn’t anything any of them could do. He thought of all the nights he spent sitting in plastic chairs next to hospital beds after he’d finished all of the after mission reporting he could do, just waiting for Clint to wake up. There was Budapest, where Clint and Natasha unknowingly walked right in the middle of a turf war between two arms dealers. In the end, the two of them with only Phil as their backup, had taken both arms dealers down, but not before Clint was shot in the leg and fell off the ledge from a window on the second floor.

Phil remembered screaming into his comm for his two agents to respond, to say anything and give him a sign that they’re okay. He remembered rushing towards Natasha when he finally made the rendezvous, and the overwhelming relief that washed over him as he saw that Clint was badly injured but still alive. He only remembered bits and pieces of the evac and getting back to base, where he’d sat in silent vigil with Natasha by Clint’s bedside, watching the archer’s chest rise and fall, waiting for him to wake up from heavy sedation. Phil didn’t remember ever being so scared in his life, so close to losing someone he truly cared about.

Natasha must’ve seen the emotions that flicker in his eyes, emotions he didn’t even understand himself at the time, because she flashed him a sad smile before forcing him to go home, shower and pick up some Chinese for the both of them on his way back.

Phil had always wondered if she knew just how he felt about Clint. She probably did; she’d always been intuitive like that. It was one of the reasons why they work so well together. She was quick to understand their moods and adjusted even quicker, like an extra limb you didn’t even know you have until it knocked unconscious the thug trying to ambush you from behind.

(For the record, Phil saw that guy coming from a mile away but Natasha beat him to the punch. Literally.)

 

\---

 

_You owe me big time, Coulson_ , Maria texted about an hour after her previous phone call. _Fury wasn’t easy to convince_.

Phil could feel the tension that’d been building for days bleed right out of him. Whatever Fury might be and whatever he might do in the name of defending the Earth, his old friend wasn’t that much of a bastard. And Fury knew him far too well. _Thank you_ , he texted back.

_Just… take care, okay? We need you_ , was Maria’s only reply.

Two hours later, Melinda informed him via comm that they were landing in Illinois.

“Tower said to tell you that HQ wants you to call in as soon as we’re landed,” Melinda informed him blandly.

Phil frowned. Why didn’t Maria mention any of this?

“Acknowledged. I’ll take care of that first thing after checking in with the base commander. It’s late; we’ll fly out in the morning. Tell the others and make sure Skye has everything she needs in her quarters.”

“Roger that.”

Melinda landed the Bus smoothly then taxied to the hanger. The ground crew came rushing towards them even though it was late in the day.

Phil waited by the rear bay door as it opened, made his way down the ramp between Lola and the SUV, and froze.

Standing outside the bay door, in the middle of the hanger, was Clint, his jaw scruffy and hair wild and completely, impossibly _there_. Phil stared, his chest heaving and his heart racing. He couldn’t move, couldn’t stop staring, as if a slightest flinch would shatter the illusion of Clint in front of him.

“Phil…” Clint breathed. Phil could see the fingers of his right hand twitching reflexively as if searching for the curve of his bow.

Phil force himself to put one foot in front of another, making his way slowly across to where Clint stood frozen and _shaking_.

“Hey,” Phil said simply. His eyes prickled as he reached for Clint.

Phil was aware of the rustle and bustle around them, as well as his new team gathering behind him, but he didn’t care. There was Clint, standing right in front of him, a sight for sore eyes after so very long.

His fingers brushed against Clint’s shoulder, and Clint shuddered as if burned.

“Phil… Oh God.” Clint murmured, still trembling like a leaf. Phil couldn’t stop himself from pulling him into his arms just to hold on to him, just to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. “I’m not dreaming? It’s really you? You’re… alive…”

Phil’s chest constricted at Clint’s words. Clint buried his face to Phil’s neck with his arms around Phil’s waist, and Phil could hear the quiet sobs, could feel the tremor beneath his fingers and tears staining his shirt collar. He tightened his arms around Clint, holding him as close as he could, not leaving even a single sliver of air between them. His own answering tears spilled over his cheek but he didn’t care who saw. There Clint was, safe and whole and in his arms, and that was all Phil cared about.

He waited until Clint’s shuddering breaths tapered into something a little smoother before loosening his hold on his archer, who refused to move away. Phil leaned back a bit so he could catch Clint’s kaleidoscope eyes. “Hey?”

“Hi,” Clint said, his voice breaking mid-syllable into a watery smile.

Phil wiped his thumbs carefully across Clint’s cheeks, taking away the tears still dotting his face, before pulling him into a kiss.

Clint’s lips were soft, but the stubbles grazed against his chin, scratchy and rough and oh so real. Phil whimpered softly at the feel of Clint’s bottom lip caught against his teeth. He was dimly aware of the quiet gasps and muffled questions coming from behind him, but he couldn’t bother caring because Clint was melting into him and kissing him back, careful and scared and hungry all at the same time. Phil sighed into the kiss, feeling his heart settle in a way he hadn’t felt in a very long time.

There was catcalls and whistling all around them when they finally broke apart grinning at each other with their foreheads touching. Phil knew there would probably be photos and videos and enough blackmail material to last a life time, but then Clint was looking at him like a miracle had happened and he was just gone.

 

\---

 

 “Talk to me?” Phil asked, softly, once they were back on the Bus and alone in Phil’s office. Clint seemed fine physically, but Phil knew Clint.

Clint just stared at his feet, his fingers still twitching reflexively as he leaned against Phil’s desk. Phil pressed a palm to Clint’s cheek and tipped his face up so he could see Clint’s expressions clearly. Clint’s fingers came up to wrap around his wrists, but he didn’t pull away, as if he was only making sure Phil was there.

“Clint?”

Clint took a deep breath, sniffing loudly, his eyes brimming. “I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead.”

Phil felt his heart break all over again. “I was, technically, for about forty seconds before the medics revived me and put me into stasis. They weren’t sure if I was going to live.”

“I mourned you,” Clint’s voice shook, whether with grief or anger, Phil couldn’t tell. Maybe both. “I thought you’d died. I thought I’d killed you.”

“Oh, Clint.” Phil’s chest seized, and he was choking on his own words as he wrapped Clint in another fierce hug, whispering his apologies over and over again, begging for Clint to hear them. “I’m sorry. Oh God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. It was not your fault. Never your fault. I’m here. I’m still here…”

“But it is my fault that you almost died,” Clint shook his head. “If I hadn’t let myself get taken—”

“Clint, listen to me,” Phil stopped Clint, his hand smoothing over Clint’s hair in a comforting gesture. “I couldn’t let him have you. I had to try to get you back. I promised to keep you safe, and always bring you home, didn’t I?”

Clint nodded reluctantly. “Don’t ever do that to me again,” Clint mumbled against his hopelessly ruined shirt. “You’re not expendable either. You need to work harder on that.”

“I know,” Phil said. “It’s a work in progress.”

They stayed there just holding onto one another until someone knocked on the door. Clint backed away and turned quickly, wiping at his face with the back of his hand as Melinda poked her head in.

“Everything okay?” Her face was a bland not-smile but her eyes were soft.

Phil swept his eyes over to Clint briefly before nodding at Melinda. “Yeah, everything is fine now.”

She gave them another significant look before nodding and shutting the door once again.

Phil pulled Clint to the couch next to his desk and so they could talk more comfortably.

“What have you been told?” Phil asked first.

Clint gave a pained smile. “Only the basics. Fury pulled me aside and explained. Said that he only gave me special permission for access to eyes-only stuff because my clearance was high enough. Apparently being Level Seven doesn’t get you automatically read in on everything. Of all the Avengers, only Natasha and I have the necessary clearance for this.”

“It was a bit more complicated than just clearance levels,” Phil said. “There were some pretty serious leaks in our security beyond the damage Loki was able to inflict. The Council would never have been able to launch that nuke without at least a few moles within the organization. Fury wanted me to keep to the shadows so we can deal with aftermath without the Council trying to get their greedy fingers on everything.”

“Yeah, I gathered from the file Fury gave me. He said you’d be here tonight and told me I could borrow a jet but I’m not allowed tell anyone about you. Not ever, not even Nat.”

“Not telling the Avengers gives you guys plausible deniability. It’s as much to protect SHIELD as to protect the Avengers,” Phil said. It was one thing for SHIELD to operate in the shadows, but the Avengers could afford no such luxury. It had always been Fury’s intention for the Avengers to operate as an autonomous unit to prevent interference from people like the World Security Council.

“I know.” Clint sighed.

“They were worried, you know, Fury and Maria.” Phil pressed a kiss to Clint’s crown as the man laid his head on Phil’s shoulder. “Me too.”

Clint only shrugged, brushing it like he always did whenever someone showed any sort of care towards him. He stayed snuggled against Phil quietly for a long time before he looked up at Phil again.

“Are we going to talk about this?”

“About?”

“This. Us.” Clint straightened up. Phil decided that he didn’t like that kind of distance between them now that he knew what it was like to be holding Clint close.

“Do we? Need to, I mean?”

“You kissed me, Phil. Right in front of the entire hanger _and_ your new team. I’m pretty sure that requires a conversation of some sort.”

There was a vulnerable look of apprehension in Clint’s eyes that made Phil cringe internally at his previous reply. “Well, yes. I mean, I have feelings for you. Very strong feelings, and for far longer than I’m willing to admit. And you kissed me back too, so I am inclined to assume that you feel the same way.”

“I do.” Clint relaxed back down, his side pressed against Phil’s. “Feel the same way. Have been since you took that first bullet for me.”

Clint’s admission came as a surprise to Phil. “So, basically, we’ve both been idiots.”

Clint chuckled. “Looks like,” Clint said, leaning in to press his lips to Phil’s and just hold there, sharing the connection.

“You do know there are still a lot we need to talk about, right?” Phil said when Clint pulled away. “And I know that psych still wants to meet with you.”

Clint sighed. “I know, but can we not talk about that now?”

“Okay.” Phil nodded, willing to concede to a later time. “Will you stay?”

“For as long as you want me.”

Phil had meant if Clint would stay on board until they had to fly out the next day, but he was more than happy with Clint’s answer. There was still something Phil couldn’t name nagging at him, but Clint was warm and pliant and snuggled against him, and all Phil wanted to do was to stay right where he was. He put the thought to the back of his mind to deal with later, and simply focused on the feel of Clint in his arms.

 

\---

 

_Secure SHIELD Base, Location: Classified_

 

“Hill, report.”

“Barton’s with Coulson right now.” Maria straightened under Fury’s one-eyed glare. “Sir, are you sure it’s advisable to read Barton in on Coulson being alive?”

“Do you have a better alternative?” Fury arched his eyebrow. “This way at least we can keep an eye on the both of them. Regardless of how much of a loose cannon Barton can be, he’s still a SHIELD agent. He knows what’s at stake if he wasn’t careful about this information.”

“I suppose,” Maria sighed. “What about Coulson’s ‘condition?’”

“Keep monitoring him. Remember,” Fury inched slightly closer to his end of the monitor in a threatening manner. “Barton can’t know about that. Make sure he doesn’t find out.”

“Yes, sir.” Maria saluted as the transmission cut out, her loyalty towards SHIELD conflicting with that towards her mentor.

The miracle that kept Coulson alive had come at a cost, and no one could know about it, ever, least of which, Barton and Coulson himself. She shuddered to think what would happen when they did find out, especially now that they’d finally been reunited.

“I want an update on Coulson’s condition,” she gave the order to the tech waiting in the wings. “And I want twenty-four-seven monitoring on Barton effective immediately.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me here: http://thisiswintermute.tumblr.com/


End file.
